The black crows that have surrounded

are waiting for the vultures to leave.


pounding upon meat upon meat,

pecking on his eye balls.


Leaving nerves and

flesh and flesh together.


Lying in a rotten casket,

of his  exposed rib-cage

He awaits;

his heard yet pounding.


Degraded flesh

leads to a love-laiden flower;heavy with its own burden

it crumples.


Out of the moist earth

arises another red

that turns black,

like the soot in the air.









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